The Ballad of the Spider
by OfficialUSMWriter
Summary: A dark cloud is settling over New York. A mass of black and gray engulfing the city into its suffocating embrace. It's dangerous, its dark, and its ready to rain down a hell of blood and pain for the city it once loved. No one is safe - not even heroes. All anyone can do it listen for the coaxing Ballad singing in the wind, and pray that this monster won't catch them in the back.
1. The First Verse

**Okay, hi! This is my first non-USM (Cartoon) fic that I've posted on this profile. This is going to probably be more intense than all of my other fics. Take note of the rating. There will be some swearing, some graphic scenes etc... This is just a fic I thought of that involves a Crazy-Spider-Man, how or why will be revealed in later chapters.**

 **Read at your own discretion.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights go to Marvel, Sony, Disney - just whoever owns Spider-Man and the Marvel characters. Plots and coo-coo-crazy stuff is mine though.**

 **Gifted to my friend: Fernandidilly_Yo because she is just awesome and I happen to enjoy our talks.**

 **And, uh, Fernandidilly_Yo, this fic might be weird, puzzling, and a tad bit, uh - INSANE! I ask that you don't judge me too harshly. XD**

 **But hey, what are friends for?** **;)**

 **Enjoy** **:)**

* * *

 _ **August 18,**_

 **Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane, far off from N.Y.C,**

 **10:13 P.M**

It was a particularly cold early autumn night. The sky was bleak and frigid, devoid of any life all aside from a pale white moon that lightly frosted the ground in frothy white; the chilled wind howled in distress and shook the vulnerable, naked limbs of trees, and sent demonic shadows scratching and crawling along the ground. A light frost crept up silently on windows and water, etching its sharp crystals into the glass, cracking the surface into shrapnels of white and silver.

It was the kind of night that implicitly urged people to stay indoors. The kind that suggested that something sinister was lurking in the dark. The city of New York didn't know what it was, but something evil tainted the air that night.

But why tonight, of all nights? What unfortunate event could've occurred to bring upon such a rotten and twisted aura?

Well, past the bland lights of the city, away from the self-made glow of the buildings and several miles across the black rolling waves of the sea, one edifice held a secret. A secret that challenged the very safety and life of New York.

Below the dark water, wrapped tightly in folds of a raw, powerful ocean, was a building. It was made up completely of steel and concrete, reinforced with a thick metal alloy and titanium, designed to keep the crushing pressure of the water out; there were no windows, for there was nothing to see but an endless sea. The weak moon glimmered feebly down on the water surface, its rays not strong enough to make the tough descent toward the isolated edifice, and not confident enough to even try.

There was only one way in, also meaning there was only one way out - and the only way out was authentication from the man-on-top. Alongside that was an impeccable security system, intended for only the most deadly that the world had to offer. But to any who could make it past the unbreachable entrance, the words: _Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane_ was twisted and etched inside, there to greet anyone who happened to be as unfortunate enough to even approach the brooding building.

The institute was built by the Government as a place to house dangerous and mentally unstable criminals in need of some…rehabilitation. Its occupants were dark, twisted, and teetering past _mentally insane_ and plummeting right off the edge of _sick and demented_ \- its habitants certainly didn't fail to leave the institute on its toes. In fact, just a month earlier, the staff received a new patient.

An "extra special" case.

Ravencroft hadn't felt the same since.

Usually, an aura of black danger shadowed the place even on the sunniest of days. It left chills running down people's spines and goosebumps spreading on their arms. The institute was no place for the weak-minded. But now…a new aura has settled in. Ever since the new patient was checked in, a rotted, twisted, sick energy seemed to blanket the entire building, just squeezing and squeezing till the occupants inside were struggling for air in its suffocating embrace. It lurked in the nooks and crannies, it spooked the demons in the closet and scared the monsters under the bed. It whispered a breathy laugh as cold as the wind above, as raw as the ocean currents, and as sharp as a knife in the heart. Something different was here, something not quite…human.

And that something was right down the hall.

It was a room that was almost constantly locked. There was _always_ a minimum of at least two guards posted in front of the door 24/7, _always_ armed and _always_ alert. The only way into the room was a clearance code known only by two people. One of which was a psychotherapist doctor, consistently accompanied by her two assistant nurses, who went in for 2 hours every two days. No one else, not even the guards assigned to watch the cell, has even seen the inside of the room.

Not that the guards lasted long. They always seemed to be switching out and requesting different jobs. No one liked guarding _that_ cell; rumors were spreading.

Tonight's guards was a man named Hal and a woman named Kathy. It had been a particularly long day for both and they had just clocked into their night shift looking to a night of boredom and exhaustion.

"You new to this post?" Hal asked Kathy as soon as they had both settled in their drilled left-right positions. His helmet was pulled up, leaving his face bare.

Kathy gave him a half annoyed eye-roll under her helmet. She replied nonetheless, "Yeah, just got the assignment today, you?"

Hal nodded, "Same." He shouldered his gun and tapped his leg thoughtfully. He could feel a cold breeze whistle through the corridors and suppressed a shiver when he felt an icy waft of air blow over his naked face. They needed to do something about the ventilation. He glanced at his co-worker through the corner of his eyes. She didn't move and stared listlessly ahead, eyes forward and back straight.

He could barely make out a crop of blonde hair and sharp cheekbones beneath her helmet. Not bad, not bad at all…he had been needing a night out for a few days. Perhaps his chance for one was standing right in front of him.

He smirked. "You know," he said, leaning casually against the wall and making sure not to look at Kathy directly when she turned to acknowledge him. "My friend Jordan used to have this job. He managed to stay a whole week before he couldn't handle it anymore. He requested a post-transfer immediately, or he was going to quit right then and there."

"Really?" Kathy said doubtfully, "And what was so bad that he wanted a post-transfer? Was the hallway haunted? He saw a ghost?" she chuckled mirthfully. "Sounds like he's just being a wuss to me."

Hal grinned as if he expected Kathy to say that. "No, no ghosts." He agreed nonchalantly "'The Ballad of the Spider' is what drove him crazy. Haven't you heard the rumors?"

"Of course I have." Kathy scoffed in contempt. "The Ballad of the Spider: a twisted poem-thing constructed by Mr. Cuckoo in there," she jerked her thumb behind her to gesture to the door "Designed to drive the agents and staff to madness blah, blah, blah, blah, and they're all just what you said. Rumors. Lies and gossip. I bet our crazy Shakespeare in there is just lying on his cot drooling or staring at the ceiling or something equally stupid like that."

Hal shrugged carelessly, "Honestly, I kind of hope there is a Ballad. I'd way rather be scared shitless than being bored out of my mind. I've been here only," he glanced at his watch, hidden underneath his uniform sleeve; "30 minutes and I feel like _I'm_ going crazy."

Kathy offered him a half-hearted chuckled but voiced her agreement. The night shifts were definitely the most boring ones - well, depending on where you were at in the institute. They fell into a dull silence again and remained that way for several more minutes. Kathy was leaning against the wall now and Hal had gone as far as to holstering his gun with his free arms now crossed loosely across his chest.

The minutes ticked on and the night seemed to drag relentlessly.

As Hal was coming up with a conversation to have with Kathy, to ask her to a club opening in a few days, he was interrupted by a small, near indistinct sound. He stood a little straighter and listened more intently, straining his ears to hear it again - if there was really even a noise at all.

 _Tap-Tap-Tappety-Tap_

Kathy noticed her partner's tense position and leaned upright as well. "What's wrong?" she asked. Hal shushed her and motioned for her to listen too. He heard it again.

 _Tap-Tap-Tappety-Tap_

 _Tap-Tap-Tappety-Tap_

It was soft and barely distinguishable. The two looked at each other curiously. "What is that?" Kathy whispered, coming in closer. Hal shrugged, he leaned forward and put his ear to the wall. The tapping was there alright; louder, but still soft - almost dainty. Hal pointed to the spot of their discretion, "It's coming from here." he whispered.

" _Well, of course, it is, silly."_ A voice whispered back. Hal jumped away from the wall with a gasp. That definitely didn't come from Kathy. Said woman was looking at Hal in confusion. She hadn't heard a thing.

" _So, you're my new babysitters._ " The voice whispered again, in a wryly amused croon. _"I was wondering when the other two were gonna leave._ " There was a soft, loving sigh. " _And I liked Agent Jordon so much. He was fun. He liked listening to my Ballad too. He stayed a whole week just to hear it, you know._ "

"Ballad?" Kathy whispered to Hal, obviously picking up on the tiny voice now.

" _Why_ , _of course!_ " the voice preened. " _Isn't that why you two came? You want to hear my Ballad too. You want to be, what was it? Ah – right, scared-shitless, remember_?" the voice giggled hysterically. " _Did you tell the Pirate - Captain - the 'Top Dog ' - about it yet? I want to sing it to him. Him and his First Mate. Yes, sing it until their ears are bleeding and their heads are ringing."_ Cackling followed. " _I want him to hear it until he is_ ** _begging_** _for it to stop."_

Kathy and Hal exchanged uneasy looks.

" _Oh don't be nervous._ " The voice cooed, causing them to jerk back in astonishment. " _Don't worry. I'm sure we'll be the best of friends. Soooo, I'll sing the Ballad to you_ ** _if_** _you do something for me too. Promise me? Do you promise_?"

The two guards didn't say anything, but that didn't matter for the voice continued on with a giggle, " _Of course you do!_ _We're friends now! So listen up my friends, because I'll sing it only once…or 10, we'll see!_ " giggling turned into deranged chuckles into hysterical, throaty laughs that got louder and louder, and crazier with every speedy breath.

" _Just getting warmed up_." The voice guffawed breathlessly. _"I do so enjoy doing this over, and over, and over…and over…and over…_ " the voice slacked off, but its excited and happy tone never faded. It seemed to whisper the line like it was chanting a beautiful, hypnotic mantra. Kathy and Hal backed up a distance from the wall, but not even the thick wall of concrete and steel between them could block the whispering.

The voice started in a low hum, gradually rising in volume, but the tune was still soft and serene – like a lullaby. After a moment of the appealingly captivating sound, the voice sang in a sweet, gentle murmur:

" _There is a place - a place that I know,_

 _A place where I like to go_

 _Where walls are built_

 _Made of brick and bone_

 _Here I sit - I sit alone - arms tightly bound_

 _Wrapped in white - my breaths, my sound_.

The sweet tune of the words erupted into a harsh snarl that was twisted with loathing and malice.

 _Put there by a Pirate - a Captain._

 _Not a_ ** _friend_** _But a foe._

The tone dropped again just as rapidly, quiet once more, but this time more hushed, like a little kid revealing a secret that he was eager to tell.

 _Voices whisper_

 _They sound silver-tongued in my head_

 _"_ _A freak of nature"_

 _That what_ ** _they_** **_said_**

 _A blood bath I've drawn_

 _For you, my dear staff_

 _I'll chuckle, I'll whisper_

 _And then I'll laugh:_

 _'_ _I am no hero,_

 _No hero I'll be_

 _And I will get out_

 _Just you wait and see'_

The tone rose into an arrogant and condescending tone. Its smirk was practically felt through the thick walls separating the voice from its guards.

 _Agile and fast_

 _They call me 'The Spider'_

 _I'll joke and laugh_

 _And I'll play with fire_

 _The smoke is so pretty_

 _And my venom is neat_

 _I like to drink it_

 _'_ _Cause it's so sweet_

The melody mellowed out suddenly. It turned sad and empty, hollow even. When the voice continued, it seemed choked, wet and raw. Like it had spent its free time swallowing glass and then spitting it back up again. The tone smoothed over Hal and Kathy like glassy ice, making them want to shake from sudden cold.

 _My withering webs_

 _Decay, but won't fade_

 _So I cut them loose_

 _With a rusty blade_

 _My past is torn_

 _I'm a predator alone_

 _My dear friends have gone_

 _I've picked clean their bones_

The voice paused for a moment, and for a second Kathy thought she heard a sob. But a stab of something unpleasant shot through her system and her stomach curdled as a boisterous laugh erupted through the wall. The voice proclaimed loudly with the glee and happiness of a sick child:

 _My prey don't see me coming_

 _Now it's time to hunt_

 _Listen to me now_

 _And I'll say it blunt:_

 _'_ _I am no hero,_

 _No hero I'll be_

 _Are you not scared?_

The question was soft but layered with thickly with irony and malice. It made Hal wonder if he was missing some crucial bit of information.

 _Don't worry; it's_ ** _only_** _me._

 _Watch me approach_

 _But please don't flee_

 _You see, sanity is gone_

 _And they threw away the key_

 _We'll stay together in this dark corner_

 _Just you and me_

 _But you won't - can't - utter_

 _A solace or plea_

 _See, I love pain_

 _And you'll soon agree_

 _Written in_ ** _your_** _blood_

 _This I decree_

The voice shouted, rising and volume and bellowed out with a wave of emotions bleeding together: hate, awe, horror, admiration, pain, and pure, unadulterated laughter.

 ** _This is MY Ballad_**

 ** _The Ballad of ME!_**

Giggles and shrieks of laughter followed, completely hysteric and deranged. The kind that felt like a knife peeling the skin, the kind only a psychopathic freak would use. It curdled Hals' stomach and froze Kathy's blood. The two guards stepped as far away from the wall as possible, not stopping till their backs were against the opposite end. The laughter didn't stop, sometimes it rose in volume and other times it dialed down into low chuckles. But. It. Never. STOPPED!

Hal grimaced, feeling suddenly sick. Kathy fared no better, her hand lay on her stomach and she was looking at the door in disgust. "I'm starting to see the truth in those rumors." She muttered at Hal.

"No kidding," Hal agreed, "I'm starting to see why Jordan wanted a different post. This lunatic is a whole new level of crazy!"

 _"_ _Oh, but you're not leaving so soon, friends."_ The voice called, it sounded like an order. _"I fulfilled by end of our promise! I sang you my Ballad, and now you must do something for me."_ The voice was quiet for a beat. Then it fiercely demanded, " _Let. Me. Out!"_

Hal and Kathy shared a look. Silently they agreed that neither of them was letting that psycho out, they couldn't even if they wanted too. Besides, this guy was looney – like, loonier than some of the other patients they've seen. They shook their head and didn't say anything.

" _Let me out!_ " the voice – no, Spider – bellowed. " _Let me out! .OUT! We made a promised! A promise! You can't break a promise; you can't stab me in the back too!"_

The two guards remained silent, refusing to acknowledge Spider, refusing to egg him on. They quietly leaned against the far wall, hands clutching their weapons with renewed vigor.

" _NO! NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!_ " Spider shrieked desperately. " _DON'T YOU SEE? I HAVE TO GET OUT! I HAVE TO SEE MY ROSE, I HAVE TO CLEANSE! THEY MUST FALL! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"_ His puzzling pleas fell on deaf ears. There was a sudden bang against the wall and the guards jumped.

Then another and another, and another. Shrieks and yells and screams followed. They sounded gut-wrenching and hair-raising. Like death, itself was trapped behind thick, titanium reinforced doors. The guards contemplated calling the Head Guard, or even Spiders doctor.

But minutes after the tormented screams started, they abruptly ended, soon replaced with raw, broken sobs. There was a half-hearted thump and then more crying. _"I just want to go home_." He whispered. " _My Rose needs me. The thorns grow sharper every day."_ he wailed. " _Thorns…thorns stained with blood and tears…please…I need…I need to cleanse the -heh…I nee-ha - hahah-hahahaha…hahahaAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!_ " the sudden laughter mixed in with the sobs to produce a low gurgling sound that sounded strangled and broke.

" _All will be okay. I'll get out. My Rose won't be left untrimmed. I will get out! Just wait and see! This is my Ballad. The Ballad of ME!_ " shrieks of laughter, never ending, never stopping.

Breathless and heaving, Spider started singing:

 _There is a place - a place that I know,_

 _A place where I like to go_

 _Where walls are built_

 _Made of brick and bone_

 _Here I sit - I sit alone - arms tightly bound_

 _Wrapped in white - my breaths, my sound_.

 _Put there by a Pirate - a Captain._

 _Not a_ ** _friend_** _. But a foe._

 _Voices whisper_

 _They sound silver-tongued in my head_

 _"_ _A freak of nature"_

 _That what_ ** _they_** **_said_**

 _A blood bath I've drawn_

 _For you, my dear staff_

 _I'll chuckle, I'll whisper_

 _And then I'll laugh:_

 _'_ _I am no hero,_

 _No hero I'll be_

 _And I will get out_

 _Just you wait and see'_

 _Agile and fast_

 _They call me 'The Spider'_

 _I'll joke and laugh_

 _And I'll play with fire_

 _The smoke is so pretty_

 _And my venom is neat_

 _I like to drink it_

 _'_ _Cause it's so sweet_

 _My withering webs_

 _Decay, but won't fade_

 _So I cut them loose_

 _With a rusty blade_

 _My past is torn_

 _I'm a predator alone_

 _My dear friends have gone_

 _I've picked clean their bones_

 _My prey don't see me coming_

 _Now it's time to hunt_

 _Listen to me now_

 _And I'll say it blunt:_

 _'_ _I am no hero,_

 _No hero I'll be_

 _Are you not scared?_

 _Don't worry; it's_ ** _only_** _me._

 _Watch me approach_

 _But please don't flee_

 _You see, sanity is gone_

 _And they threw away the key_

 _We'll stay together in this dark corner_

 _Just you and me_

 _But you won't - can't - utter_

 _A solace or plea_

 _See, I love pain_

 _And you'll soon agree_

 _Written in_ ** _your_** _blood_

 _This I decree_

 ** _This is MY Ballad_**

 ** _The Ballad of ME!_**

 **(A/N: I have much more planned for this fic. Much more. So stay tuned! ;) )**


	2. A Hymn for a Rainbow

_"Roses are red_

 _Blood is when bled_

 _Spiders are blue_

 _Tears are too_

 _Poison is green_

 _With no vaccine_

 _Bruises are purple,_

 _But they won't stop - how awful._

 _Orange is the colors of a Gargoyles soul_

 _What a bright and fiery hellhole_

 _My hellish fire with hues of yellow_

 _My, what a pretty rainbow..."_

I giggled as the last syllable dripped from my tongue. There. It was kind of rough, but I did it. A symphony for the sky, the sun, the rain - for a rainbow I'll never get to see.

 _Yellow. What a_ _ **smart**_ _color. What a hellish color._

How strange, rainbows were. Showing up to grace a gray world with its magnificent colors. Reds, and blues, and greens, and purples, and oranges, and yellows. A picture in the sky to display the variety of nature. A painting of beauty. A painting so bright and hard to ignore. How nice. How sweet. How beautiful. How brutal. How narcissistic. How _cruel._

 _Blue. So_ _ **true.**_ _Tears never lie._

Showing colors to the world, so bleak that it turned upside down right side up. Displaying an unfathomable idea of peace, and hope, and justice, and avengence that it wiped the world of what was true and what was fake. Of what was strong and what was crumbling.

 _Orange. Only the_ _ **skilled**_ _wore orange. Isn't that right, demon?_

A rainbow makes you think it'll be there for you. It will bathe you in light so bright, and give you a sense of love and care - only to disappear minutes later, promise or no promise. Cause, you see, a rainbow didn't really care. It was all a trap. A game.

 _Green. I wish I were_ _ **strong**_ _too...my poison is, though._

But two can play this game, Rainbow.

 _Purple. When the blow_ _ **always hits**_ _. Bruises. Bruises. Bruises._

I've studied the rules. I've memorized your moves. I'm prepared to fight.

 _Red. So much red._ _ **Feathers**_ _dipped in blood._

The gameboard is set. It's only a matter of who is going first. Heh, are you scared? Frightened of what's to come? Oh, how _cute_. That's fine. I'll go first. All it takes is a roll of the dice, the first hum of a tune, and it'll all begin.

 _Checkmate. Dead-end. Go back. Restart. Skip._

The door suddenly hisses open. Ugh, it's _her_. How long as it been? A few hours? A couple days? A week? Whatever the time, I bet she was just biting her nails in anticipation. Heehee, the anxiety in her eyes, the shake of her hands - she's nervous. Oh, but whatever could she nervous for? She was only dealing with a "psychopathic, insane hero gone rogue" - according to **them** anyway.

 _Ace. Wild. Jack. Joker. Queen. King._

Hahaha, he wasn't psychopathic - just...enlightened...or maybe he really _was_ insane...funny how sometimes he couldn't even tell. His thoughts were so jumbled these days, everything just started bleeding together. The rubber pads of the room seemed to mush together with the eyes, watching him. Thousands and thousands of demons eye that never blinked and never looked away. What a bunch of blood-sucking vermin.

Blood-sucking, _mind-wiped_ vermin. They didn't know what to believe anymore. Poor things...

 _Hmmm...what game were we playing again? Skip-Bo? Uno? Phase 10?_

But that will all change soon enough. As soon as he got out he'd need to gather his intel, rally his resources, and strike them where it _really_ counted.

 _Oh, right. Cat and Mouse. Good vs Evil. Right and Wrong. A tale as old as time, la-dee-da-dee-da..._

The lady sat down across from him. He knew her name, she always introduced herself as Ms. Blythe -as if she expected him to forget within the time space of how long she has been gone. " _Hello Spider, I'm Ms. Blythe. I am your friend. I'm going to help you. I can't help you unless you help me understand. Question. Question. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah."_ her song was the same every time.

 _la-dee-da-dee-d~hmm...I wonder how Rose is doing?_

She didn't think I was watching. I let my eyes roam over the ceiling, peer over every stretch of rubber and into every dip in the padded cushions, only watching her through the corner of my peripheral vision. Ha, I didn't even need to watch to know what she'd do. Sit at the desk. Scoot the chair in. Open her briefcase. Taker out my file. Read through. Set it down. Look at me.

 _My arms are numb._

So dull. So boring. Web swinging was always so much more fun. Brought a whole new meaning to "hanging on by a thread". But they took my webs, refrain my power, and stuff me away - but they couldn't take my mask. Heeheeheehee, I've held onto my secret side this long, why break a perfectly good record now.

 _Stupid Pirate Captain. Stupid First Mate. Stupids Rainbows. Stupid eyes. Stupid demons. Stupid creatures._

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Idiotic._

But she seemed different today. Shaken, unnerved - was that sad anxiety? Hmm...odd...

"Hello, Spider, I'm Ms.-"

"Helen?" I answered quickly, a smile quirking. This was my favorite game.

"Bl-"

"Kathy?"

"Bly-"

"Lily?"

"Blyt-"

"Arnold? It _has_ to be Arnold. Arnold is my final answer!"

"Spider, _please_ let me finish." Ms. Bleh snapped. Ooh, short fuse today. Maybe this session _would_ be more interesting than the last.

 _I hate being numb. It's like if the cold temperature and medicine had a demonic baby. Numb. A four letter word to describe the feeling of feeling nothing, of your very body being forced to shut down against your will. I hate it. I hate it. I. HATE. IT._

I stared at the ceiling and waited for her to continue. It was only polite. I mean, I wouldn't be here much longer, so may as well humor her for a while. She did honestly think she was helping me. Poor, naive Ms. Blythe.

 _But who was going to help her? Heeheeheehee._

"Look Spider," she murmured softly. She sounded tired. "I'm not beating around the bush. I'm not going to be around here much longer"

 _Of course, she's not. I wasn't going to allow it anyway._

"It's obvious my methods aren't working, I can tell that much. But, you see..." her voice seemed to choke a little. I looked over at her just as one hand covered her quivering chin, something dropped from the corner of her eyes, it held the startling resemblance to a tear.

Was Ms. Bleh-Blythe crying? She was looking down, so I couldn't see her face clearly, but a sniffle and a soft sob answered my internal question.

"I don't think you're a bad person." she managed to whisper. I quirked an eyebrow.

Well, I didn't think I was a bad person either...

"You don't tell me much, but I can see it in you. You've experienced something tragic, but-but you _won't tell me_. And I'm not talking about the 'incident' either. It was something before that."

"Well Professor Trewlaney," I replied with a chuckle - why did I find this circumstance so funny? She almost sounded as if she actually cared. HA! Hilarious. "My tale of woe isn't for your ears. Ears, tears, or fears. No need to look in your teacup for answers either. Tea is disgusting. How can you drink it anyway?"

Ms. Blythe shook her head sadly. She looked disappointed.

 _Good._

She was a good actor. Really good actor.

 _I'd rather pry the truth from her myself, tear it out along with her throat._

"Heeheehee," How humorous.

She looked back up at me, "What's so funny?" she asked softly.

"Oh...nothing..." I smiled at her innocently, and she seemed to relax, just a little.

 _Gullible. Naive. Fool._

Hmmm, I wonder what color she'd be. A smartass yellow? A strong green? An orange? Nah, probably something more like red. Just the one who was strung along, the one who wasn't supposed to join in, but did just for the hell of it. The one who might even regret doing so now, tis a shame you can't leave once it gets you.

 _Ms. Blythe. Red. HA! Poor, poor Ms. Blythe. She'd look absolutely lovely in her own blood._

With a laugh, I rolled off the tiny mattress supplied in the room. They didn't give those comforts to most of the others prisoners - er, I mean, "patients" - but I was an "extra special case" with all the fancy schmancy delicacies. I rolled off and onto my knees. The straitjacket made getting up harder, but not impossible. It was super uncomfortable though.

I crouched down on bended knees. It really was a comfortable position, one I've done countless times before, and rocked on the balls of my feets. The giggling wouldn't stop. But it was a _fun_ sensation like there was a bubble bursting in my chest and I just HAD to get it out. This - this was _hilarious_. Don't know why, but it was. So I didn't mind it. It was encouraged actually.

 _I wonder how long it'd take to break the glass with her head._

The only thing holding me off from Dear Ms. Bleh was a thick nanotech fiber sheet of glass, made by one Tony Stark himself. How sweet of him, protecting me from this tyrannical lady. That is what it was for...right?

 _I bet it would take me only a minute with our strength._

The eyes watched me. But I was used to it. Eyes were always watching. One eye, two eyes, red eyes, blue eyes, hahaha hahaha, green eyes, yellow eyes, and purple eyes too. _They never look away._ I couldn't stop smiling for them. They wanted a show. I started humming the remnants of an old lullaby from the past. It drew the demons into the room, their black beings dripped from the nooks and crannies, leaving a trail of ink behind them, they rolled down the walls like tears; the building itself wept from the pain and sorrow and insanity that it was being forced to hold.

Soon enough puddles of black painted the floor, rippling and trembling, waiting anxiously. I started the first verse:

 _There is a place - a place that I know,_

 _A place where I like to go_

 _Where walls are built_

 _Made of brick and bone_

 _Here I sit - I sit alone - arms tightly bound_

 _Wrapped in white - my_ breaths, my sound

The inky wells shuddered and began to disperse, stretching wider and wider. They moaned wailfully along. My demons understood. They've been there from the beginning.

I didn't get to make it to the second verse.

Ms. Blythe slammed her briefcase into the desk. "If you sing the hellforsaken song one more time!" she threatened, eyes suddenly ablaze with anger. They were bloodshot and pinkish, purple bags sagged underneath them like crescent moons.

 _Rough, sleepless nights. Heeheehee. I bet I did that. She can't handle the Ballad. She can't handle it. She can't handle us._

"Don't you understand how serious this is!" she hissed through her teeth. "I want to help you, I really DO. But if I can't, they're going to replace me. Do you know who they're getting?!"

I stared at her, hissing back "I don't like being interrupted." Once the Ballad started, it wasn't supposed to stop. The words circulated around my head like a tornado, blowing every other thought away till it became all that mattered. She shouldn't interrupt. SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO INTERRUPT!

But she didn't care. "They're bringing in another doctor, dammit!" she shouted, "And this one won't be kind. He will hurt you, and abuse you and warp you until he has every little bit of information from you. He'll make you into a real cold-blooded psychopath!"

"...I. Don't. Like. Being. Interrupted."

She shouted in frustration, throwing her hands in the air.

Why does she act like she cares so much? She doesn't care. This is just her job. Another faceless victim to brainwash. Why does it matter?

Muttering curses under her breath, she turned her back to me and ran her fingers through her hair. She took a deep breath, counted to 10, and looked back at me.

 _And we're supposed to have issues._

 _I really hate feeling numb._

"I can help you." she said, "If you would just tell me what happened, Peter, then I-"

Time stopped. I acted on instinct. I hurtled straight toward her. How dare she! HOW DARE SHE! Through the musty lenses of the mask, my vision turned red.

 _She must die. Now she has to die!_

I slammed into the glass, and a web of fractures splintered the smooth surface. My shoulder popped loudly and began to burn, but that was a minor thought. "DON'T CALL ME THAT! DON'T YOU FUCKING CALL ME THAT!" I bellowed. "DON'T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!"

Ms. Blythe stumbled back, eyes wide with fright. Her nurses, two burly men in white cotton clothes, rushed to her side, pulling guns from the holsters strapped to their back. They weren't nurses, they were guards. Guards disguised as nurses. Or perhaps nurses disguised as guards...they'd die too.

The nozzles aimed for my chest and my spider-sense tingled. Let them. Just let them. I was _**dying**_ to get out!

The metal cuffs around my chest hummed, I stiffened. Instantly, a sharp, burning sensation rolled through my body, my limbs jerked unintentionally as my nerves were shot. "AGHHH!" I cried, my knees buckled and I fell. The cell hissed and began to fill with a green vapor. Green, like poison.

Only, I wished it was poison.

I breathed in the sedative, my mind went fuzzy. The horrible familiar feeling of numbness infected my limbs.

 _I HATE being numb. HATE IT!_

A whimper slithered out through my lips. Here it comes. Chilling darkness, the demons are coming out to play, fears, tears, and pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling and shaking. "Don't call me that," I whispered, threatening Ms. Blythe not to listen; to ignore me too. "Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that."

She stared at me. The mask lenses were worn and blurry, so I couldn't tell if she was crying. She'd be smart to save those tears for someone she cared about. For someone who cared about her.

"Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that..."

The sedative ate away my consciousness. Not again. Why does it have to happen again...

"Don't call me that...Don't freaking call me that..." a weak, whimperish laugh pulled from my chest, like string to a kite. "The Ballad of the Spider, the ballad of me...hahahahaha...heeehee...hee...hee..."

 _Time to play._

And just like that, the darkness swallowed me whole.

Ms. Blythe watched as Spider curled in on himself, whimpering as the sedative gas encased him. Her heart ached. He sniffled, a broken sob from him made her heart pang sorrowly. He didn't even seem to notice that he was crying.

She hadn't meant to call him... _that_. It just slipped out. That name had imprinted itself in her brain ever since she read his file. One of the worst files she's ever read. She learned pretty quickly that he hated being referred to it, in fact, it seemed more like a trigger word if she was being honest. Say it once, and he went into a blind rage. That was her first lesson the day she was assigned to him.

"Don't call me that. Don't call me that. Don't call me that..." he chanted in a fractured whisper. Guilt stabbed her like a knife, she never meant to make him feel more pain than he was in.

Ever since that first day of talking to him, she knew he was different. Not in a way that a mother see's in her child, this was deeper than that. He wasn't like the other patients in this forsaken building. For one, they were all older, never under 30. Yet, here was a 19-year-old man, not even really a man, but still a boy, here in a place like Ravencroft; the asylum for the criminally insane. This boy was hardly even a criminal.

And it wasn't even that. He was broken. Mentally yes, but even more so, emotionally. After all these months, she knew one thing for certain - his actions and attitudes were centered around his emotions. His ballad was a cruel, clear example of that. With ever verse, with every hum, it was a piece of whatever he went through to end up like this. She knew it but just couldn't link them together. There was still so much she didn't know.

He chanted his mantra until the gas took full effect. His voice faded and his body slumped. He was such a tiny boy for a 19-year-old. Ms. Blythe put her hand on the cracks in the glass. It was a state of the art material, and he had nearly shattered it with his shoulder in one hit.

"Ms. Blythe," her two assistants, that also doubled as her bodyguards, stood behind her. "Are you alright."

"Fine," she assured them. "Just fine."

She's always wanted to help those who needed it most, that was why she became a psychotherapist. But never in all the years of doing it did she want to help someone more than the boy curled up on the floor. And, never had she felt so utterly confused or helpless.

He didn't know it, but his frayed red and black webbed mask had permanent tear stains under his eyes. Ms. Blythe couldn't count the number of times he wakes up in the night in tears and screaming at the top of his lungs. She couldn't count the number of scars on his back alone whenever they needed to adjust or clean him. The only thing she, or anyone, could do to ease his pain in the asylum was to let him keep his mask. He wouldn't part with it.

Ms. Blythe would bet her very soul that if anyone tried to take it, he'd fight tooth and nail to keep it. And why not? With his past...well, of what she knew of his past anyway, then it was completely understandable.

Her bodyguards were still behind her. "How can a hero fall so far?" she quietly asked them.

The one on her right shrugged, "I guess some people aren't cut out for it." he said. "It ought to be a pretty tough life."

But she didn't think that was it. There seemed to be more to the puzzle. But she nodded, anyway, "Yeah...maybe your right."

"What are you going to do about Dr. Anderson?" the other asked.

Ms. Blythe shrugged, "What CAN I do?" she muttered, "As soon as Anderson gets his hands on him, then-" she shook her head. "All I can do for him now is send him a prayer and hope he's truly as strong as he seems, and I don't think even that will be enough to save him." her hands fell from the cracks on the glass.

"Come on, it's time to go."


	3. Seeing Yellow

Holy SHIT I'm not in the marshmallow room anymore.

Look at these walls. White steel, shiny, bright, and so different. What a lovely light above me. Just like the walls - so bright. Oh gaaarsh, look at that door. A real _door._ So pretty. So lovely. It probably opens and everything!

 _What happened to my safety glass? What about the eyes?_

There had to be eyes here too. Eyes, lies, and ties, there always was. I'd be so _lonely_ without them. Who else will glare at me, and criticise, and hurt, and punch, and spit, and be honest? Verminous eyes never leave.

Yep. They're there. In the wall, blinking. Blink, blink, blink, snap, snap, blink, snap. _Heeheeheeheehee._

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.

 _The camera shoots. Photoshoots. Point, focus, shoot. Snap. Bang. Snap. Bang._

 _Dead._

The door opens, smooth and soundless to anybody but me. I can hear so much. Hear the gears working, and the feet walking, and the lungs breathing, and the heart beating. Life is so silly that way.

Who's the newcomer? I try to look up, but the strap across my head is too tight.

 _Dead, die, dead. Snap, bang. Snap the strap. Snap the neck. Bang, you hit the door. Dead, die, dead._

There are more straps. So many. On my biceps, my wrists, my chest, my stomach, my thighs, my ankles.

Cause I'm a strapping young lad.

"Heeheeeheeeheee," So well groomed, ready for a night on the town. Here we go again, here we go.

 _Strap. Strap. Snap. Nap. Strap. S. Trap. Spider Trap. All of it's a trap. Keeping me pinned to the board. Like a bug._

"Haheha, a bug in a jar!"

 _Pinning my wings so I can't fly off. But they forget there are more ways to fly. Fly over the rainbow, and watch it crumble._

The man standing in front of me is new. Is this the infamous Dr. Anderson? Oohh-hoo-hoo, Mrs. Blythe lost.

 _Lost the game._

As I knew she would. "I'm here to help you, Spider. Listen to me, Spider. I'm worried, Spider. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,"

 _Restart. Back-up. You lost. It's all to the death._

Will this one try to help me too. Is he so dumb? My arms are buzzing, eager. But that might be the IV in my arm. Let's see what he has to bring to the table because he's gotta contribute _somehow_. Gotta try and fix the freak, because the freak can't fix himself.

There are things on my head, on my chest. Wires poking out, plastic pads stuck to my skin. The metal is cold. Something on my ankle, thin, but plasticky.

 _Level up._

I look at the new doctor, so naive and gullible. Thinking he can save me. Save me from what though? Mrs. Blythe is gone, she can't hurt me anymore. Where's my safety glass. Specially designed to keep me protected! Keep - me - them - us - safe. Danger is everywhere.

 _So many eyes._

"Dr. Anderdaughter, Mrs. Bleh told me so much!" I say in greeting, because manners are everything. Good sportsmanship. Gotta be a good sport. Gotta play the game nice.

 _Nice on the outside. They don't talk about what happens inside where the gears are turning._

Turning, turning gears. Plans, thoughts, actions. Strategies. Game plan. I'll be X's, you be O's.

O's. Open wide. X's on your eyes. Tic-Tac-Toe. I'll give you an X, you give me an O.

 _O. O. O. Oh no._

"Spider," Andersonny greets, so polite. But his hands are behind his back. He doesn't even offer a handshake. That's mean, I don't bite.

Except for that _one_ time

Or twice.

Or thrice.

 _I'm kind of hungry. O's. O's. O's. Cheerio's._

"My name is Dr. Anderson, I'm here to help you."

I roll my eyes, all the way back up in my head. See all the coo-coo, icky thoughts in my brain. Red. Red. Black. Black.

 _Rainbow's don't have black._

"You're sick, Spider," Andersonnet continues, stepping away from the door to stop by a machine full of screens and blinking lights. "They called me in to fix it. I have a pretty good record, one that I'm quite proud of. You wanna help me keep it?"

 _Heehaaahahahaheee_ , what a funny dude.

"I can't help you, silly," I coo, but I can't turn my head to smile at him. "This is a game. Two sides. Enemies. And we all know enemies can't help each other."

Andersun tilts his head to the side, leans against the bed, folds his arms. "What kind of game are we playing?" He sounds like he cares, but his eyes tell the true story. I'm just a child. He's gotta go along with it. Make me happy so I don't throw a fit.

"The game, Sonny. _The_ game. The one we always play. The game board has changed, but the rules are the same. One bad. One good. Villain and Hero. Good versus evil."

He tilts his head to the other side. Like a clock. Tick. Tock. Tic. To. Tic, tack, toe.

 _Am I an X?_

 _Is he an O?_

"Which one am I?" he asks, sweet and naive. Cute, little _child._

I whisper it because you never know who might be listening. "It's not up for us to decide."

"Then who decides?"

I shrug, which is hard. Kind of funny looking, I think. I snort.

"God?" he asks. "I didn't know you were religious."

Always gotta bring the religion in this. All characters are the same, I suppose. Different stories. Different thinking. Different this, and all that. Everyone is different. Because we're all different, we're all the same. All of us together.

"God. Fate. The universe. Destiny. Odin. Cosmos. The game doesn't play by those rules, _duh_. It depends on _you_. How you play. Do you lose everything? Do you always get away? Does it hurt to live? Do you live to hurt?" I look at him, squint through my lenses. My eyes. The eyes that distinguish between the lines. It's always so much easier to tell. "Are you gonna hurt me, Sunny?"

He folds his arms, pursing his lips in thought. "Well Spider, I think that all depends on _you_. How you play _our_ little game. Will you cooperate? Or will you make it difficult."

 _Difficult? Moi? I've never heard of such a thing._

I suck in a deep breath, but the straps are hugging me too tight. The same hug. A different straightjacket. Too tight. Too close. So, so, so, so, so, so, so -

 _Suffocating_.

I look away. Disappointment is wrapping its arms around me. Sitting on my chest, strangling me with its thick hands. "Wrong. Wrong. _Wrong_. Go back one space."

They never play the game right. It's always on me. It's _always_ got to be me. So much on my shoulders, crushing my bones. Lungs are collapsing, filling with anger and frustration and endless, endless responsibility.

 _Stupid, stupid Andysun._

The new Doctor sighs, kind of like he's disappointment, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He stands up and taps the machine, before picking up something white and new in his fingers. His eyes are so excited - light and giddy. A child biting at the bit to play.

"You're supposed to have this but I thought I'd give you a choice," the mouth guard hovers forward, prompting toward my face and I hiss. My face would not be removed. My identity must be kept separate. Lines are there. Sharp and thick, and must not but blurred.

 _They have wires hooked to my forehead._

Red, black patterns, white eyes. Lenses that see the lines. Mustn't take it off. I try to shake my head. It doesn't work. But Dr. Anderson withdraws anyway, bringing the dice with him.

 _They hooked wires under the mask._

"Very well. Let's begin," he touches the pole by the table, releasing fluids from the bag hanging off and they swirl through the tubes. Falling, twisting, curling, right - right - right into the needle in my arm.

 _Numb. Numb. NO! Cheater! No hacks. No cheats. Cheaters will be caught, and they will be kicked out of the game!_

"Cheater," I tell him, my teeth grind as the cold creeps along my skin. "Cheater! Cheaters never win!"

He smiles, fingers a button on the machine. Smiles wider. A sharp smile, sharper eyes. The lines are like knives on him, thin, like razors, that'll cut and bleed. Cunning. His programming is lethal. Bad. Bad. Bad man.

"You're a yellow," I spit at him, and I wish he'd flinch. Yellow is no good. So insulting. Intelligence can be a curse. Deceitful, cunning. There will always be an ulterior motive. A hidden secret that comes out only when it pleases.

 _I will force it out. Cut it from the grooves of his face, from where it hides in his throat._

Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater.

 _Liars won't prosper._

"You're move Spider," he mocks, the yellow is in _his_ eyes, in his face. Bright, yet _the_ eyes, the eyes everywhere, never seem to catch it. Yellow-bellied. Lilly-livered. Yellow. Yell. Low. You're low.

 _Hello._

"Let's play," Andyson switches the button and I can feel the instant zips of electricity racing through the wires. Small. They shouldn't hurt. Small ones don't hurt.

But it bites. It gnashes its teeth. It shrieks.

 _No, no, NO! Bad._

Spider-sense says not. Spider sense rejects it.

No good it says. Bad. Go! Get away!

I scream, but the doctor smiles wider.

Yellow. Yellow through and through.

The cold continues spreading. Icing my arms and legs, lodging into my joints. My head is static, buzzing - all transmissions are lost. Gurgled. Can't - can't - can't - can't

The darkness comes. Ink spills over my eyes, the demons are wailing. I let them come. I beckon them forward eagerly.

 _Protect me. Protect me! Spidey-sense says no!_

They fall on me with claws and fangs. Unconsciousness has never been sweeter.

* * *

I'm back in the marshmallow room. Back in the hug.

I try to sit up but it hurts. Body aching, shouting, pushing me back down because - no, it does not want to. Familiar aches and pain. Familiar how - I - I'm not sure. It was long ago I think. Long ago.

Long...long..ago.

My thoughts are scattered. Flying through the wind, snagged through bushes and trees. It's a mess. Littered. No littering, the sign says.

What - what happened? What's going on? Why are these eyes watching me? What is this glass? Why is there a desk there? Who - who

 _Spi-Spider._

That's me. I know it. It's right. My name, my title - who I am.

Everything hurts. My thoughts are fuzzy. Fuzzy, moldy, breaking. Can't keep the transmission. Circuits are fried.

 _Reboot. Reboot._

I roll onto my side and dig my head into the rubber. Dig and dig to find the treasure. Gold thoughts, silver lies, colorful gems that reflect the misery of the lesser rocks. Dig, dig, dig, dig - hoping to strike big.

Dig, big, bidig, ballad.

 _Written in blood, this I decree! This is my BALLAD, the ballad of ME!_

Yes! Yes, there it is. There's the treasure. There's my worth. Value. Fortune. Layer after layer, line after line. Built upon another, pushing, pushing, pressure. Creating something unbreakable.

 _There is a place,_

"A place that I know,"

 _A place that I like to go,_

Where'd I go? Why is my head a cloud? Falling lower, getting thicker. Rain, sludge, and mud. Water slides, washing everything away. Washing my brain.

 _Someone's been in my head._

Mrs. Blythe. Her, was she back. It - it was her. It had to be her. It was -...

No. Not Mrs. Bleh. Someone else. A mean smile. Happy eyes. Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. New doctor. Dr. Anderson.

Cold hits me. My heart, freezing it in its chamber. No beating, no pumping. Don't move. Eyes are watching. The shadows move.

 _New game._

Play dead.

 _Dr. Anderson is a player._

Hurts my heart. Makes me hurt. Bad player. VERY Bad player. Yellow through and through.

 _Make Dr. Anderson play dead._

Motionless. No more smiles. Cheaters are cheaters. Cheaters - cheetah - move too fast. They can't win if they play their hand quickly.

"New game," I agree, rolling onto my feet. In a crouch. Safe position. Comfortable. Rocking. Rocking. A smooth motion on my feet, swaying. It's okay, it says. You'll be okay. Stay strong, for Rose. Rose's are strong. Don't cut the stem. "New game. New game."

 _War. Stratego. Poker._

Let's gamble.

"You're move, Spider" I whisper, hearing an echo. "My move. All aces? All in?"

 _New game._

"Deadman. I choose A,"

Nod. Nod again. Nod three times.

It's time to begin. It's time to play for real.

The Ballad is ready. The rules are set. It's time to play on the _real_ game board. Buildings, skyscrapers, tunnels, rooms. No more resting. No more practice. Leave the room. Leave the rubber.

It's time to escape.

 **I drew up a little comic thing-ma-jig to substitute my authors note here at the bottom, but I can't post those kinds of thing here on . So, if you guys would like to see it you can find it on my tumblr page:** **ultimatespidermanfeels . tumblr**

 **:D Thanks for reading! If you liked, consider leaving a review! I read every one!**


	4. Let the Ballad Begin!

He's coming back.

 _He's coming back._

He's coming back.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no. He's coming back. Sound the alarm. Pull it. Grab it. Push it. Break the glass. Red lights, flashing bright, spasming, moving, jumping, trembling.

Nope. Nope. Nope. THis is no good.

The room is too small to pace in. CLose walls, closed doors - boxed in. Enclosed.

 _Just gotta think. Got to come up with a plan._

Thinkg _outside_ the box. Past the glass. It failed. It didn't help. Bad, Tony. Bad yellow. One job, you had ONE job. Keep me safe and you couldn't do that!

 _Can't trust anyone anymore._

So I don't pace on the floor. I pace on the walls and the ceiling, up and down, up and down, thinking, processing, mind churning.

Break is over. Recess has been called in. It's time to get to work, gotta keep a good grade. No more disappointments. No more hurts and pain.

Time to get out. Must get out.

 _HAVE TO GET OUT._

The glass is cold. My feet are covered in plastic, but its to thin. Too weak to keep me off. The glass it cold - I DON'T like the cold. It's no good. Too numb. Too chilly. Can't feel anymore.

But I've got to feel. Every sensation, every kick, punch, and hit. Take in the data now, processing, processing - added to files, stored in database. Next one, please.

 _Take them all done. Every single one. Collect the data._

Collect the data. Understand it. Decode it. Algorithms. Formulas. Chemicals. So many different chemicals in the brain. Hormones, receptors, buzzing, sparking, shooting.

 _Sparky. Sparky. Shocks. Electricity. He's coming back._

Oh no, no, no, no, no.

I'm the O's. He's the X. Draws them on my eyes, mouth open in an O. Never saw it coming. Fatality from behind.

 _Scrambles the brain. Cooking, stirring, spinning._

"Gotta make breakfast. Gotta eat. It's the most important meal of the day."

What to do? What to do? What to do?

Got get out. How? How? How? How? How...how..how do you do.

Greetings. Salutations.

 _PLaying nice_.

How sweet.

How gullible.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Wait...maybe...maybe that's the loop. There's the sliver, the corner, the hidden door.

It's my turn to smile. The knife cuts my cheeks and giddiness bleeds down my face. Staining my clothes. The hug tightens cautiously and the eyes squint, suspicious.

 _Sew it back up_. _Stitch. Stitch. Sew. Sew. So we don't get caught by the snitches._

Mouth is clamped shut. Swallow down the giddy, and the happy, and the excited.

I'm coming, Rose. I'm coming. Sew my mouth with your thorns. So sharp, so lethal - so lonely.

First...first things first - top of the list, before we begin.

"He's coming...he's coming...he's coming," I sit on the floor.

"He's coming," I tell the eyes, and they blink. Blink. Blink.

Do they understand?

HE'S coming back.

Dr. Anderson. He'll be back.

 _Buzz. Zap. Bug zapper. Get rid of all the little bugs. The creepy crawlies. The viruses in the program, the bugs in the systems. Creeping, crawling._

"Creeping. Crawling." I nod, nod, nod, nod. "Yeah. Gotta creep. Gotta crawl. Shhhh," I shushed the eyes. "Be _quiet_."

So sweet.

So gullible.

So naive.

I just wanna help. I wanna help you. C'mon Spider, just tell me what's wrong.

Okay. Okay, okay.

Move the cards.

 _Our move! Our move! Go, go, go! All hands down!_

TSSHHHHHHHHH!

There's the gas. White smoke. Bad, poisonous. It's filling the room quickly, hiding the eyes and the demons. It's no good. I can't see. It's harder to handle deception when you don't see it coming. Friends, foes, friends, foes - what's the difference. Knives in my back, all the same.

Oh, _white, white, white._

Heh. What's wrong with white.

 _White is bad_.

White fills us up. Suffocating. Fills the space. A white room. A _white room_.

Poor, poor Spiders, caught in the white room. Gotta go. Gotta get out.

No. Matter. What.

 _Numb. It's coming. He's coming._

Tic - Tac - Toe - I'm an X, HE'S the O.

O - o - o- oh - oh n-

Yes.

* * *

Eyes open. Mouth still sewn shut. Keep it in. Drawbridge is up.

Blink away the fog. Become an eye yourself. Blink, blink, blink, double wink. The table is hard. Wires are back on my skin. Burning, itching, irritating. Machines are loud and flashy and my eyes hurt.

Back in here. There's a DOOR over there.

Heeheeheehee - yippee.

"Spider, how are you today?" Andersong asks, light, breezy. Excited. Little child. So much energy.

The straps are back. Spider traps. Binding. Controlling. Pinning.

 _Gotta keep 'em down. Can't get up. Restrictions everywhere. Laws. Good law, bad law - vigilantism. You saved a life. You broke the law._

I wiggle my wrist. I wiggle my ankle. I wiggle my thoughts.

Heart is hammering, breathing hurts. Straps are too tight, I don't like it. Tongue feels weird, swollen. Yucky, Icky.

 _Gotta get out._

Veins are bursting.

 _Time to go._

Mind is rotting. It's chaos. Surging forward. Clawing. Scratching. Hitting. Banging.

 _LET ME OUT!_

"Spider?"

Oh, he sounds nervous.

Why is he nervous?

My mask is up.

I'm smiling, and smiling, and smiling, and smiling...and smiling...and...smiling...

* * *

 **"-Red Alert! Red alert! Escaped patient! This is not a drill. Escaped patient. All hands on deck. I repeat, all hands on deck NOW! THE SPIDER IS LOOSE, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! "**

* * *

Flashing lights. All so red. Spasming. Crackling. Blaring. _Screaming_.

Stop screaming, you silly, they're HEAR you.

I squeeze the neck harder. Hands are clawing at my fingers, eyes are wide and _bugging_. We're all bugs inside and out.

 _Loophole. Loophole._

I lean down; I whisper, "But I'm an arachnid."

The rules are different for us.

"P - Peter," Anderson wheezes, clutched in my grip. Struggling, squrming. Trapped. Spider trap. He fell for it.

Fell for what.

 _It all happened to so fast. Escape. It's time to escape._

"Time to go," I tell him, grinning, laughing, chuckling, wheezing, gurgling, squeezing. " _Bye, bye,"_

He stops struggling.

One player taken out. Move up one space.

* * *

People everywhere. Running. To and fro. Back and forth. Up and down.

 _What a crazy hive._

I just want to leave. Where's the door? Where the exit?

No one is answering me.

Guns. At me. Dots on my chest. Red circles - targets. Targets are supposed to be on your back, dumb-dumbs. Stupid purples, stupid oranges - when will they learn.

 _Get rid of them. Hurry. Gotta hurry. Must go. Find Rose._

Thwip - thwip - awww shit, my webs are gone. They took my webs. Whada about my nest? How will I catch my prey.

 _Pounce. Stalk forward. Shadows. Run. POUNCE._

I jump. Guns are loud. Too loud, no good. Bad memories. Blood and tears and sadness and no. No, no, no, no, NO.

Take them.

 _Break them_.

Go away.

They're not leaving.

Stupids. Stupids. Stupids. So dumb. So idiotic.

I laugh. Oh you sillies.

Give me that gun.

Don't shoot.

" _\- are you not scared? Don't worry, it's only ME -"_

 _Watch me approach, but please don't flee!_

" written in - " eenie - meenie - miny - YOU. "YOUR blood, this I decree. This IS MY BALLAD THE BALLAD OF **ME!** "

Silence.

Quiet.

* * *

 _Buzzing. Flashing. Red. Red in the lights, red on the walls, red on the floor, red on your HANDS._

Where did everybody go?

Stop lying on the ground. It's no time for sleep.

Red is everywhere. Squishing. Running. Dripping.

 _Up. Up. Up._

I look up. I looked left, and the right, and down, and up again.

Water? Under the water. Hidden away.

Water Spider's can't drown, right?

 _Hack the system._

Tap. Tap. Tappity. Tap. Wires, and screens, and numbers. Gotta hurry. No time. They'll be coming soon. Coming right now. Gotta put the pyscho back. Gotta keep the monster locked up.

 _Bad monster!_

I'm no monster. I'm a virus!

I plug myself in. Tie myself down to the chair, hold my breath, and I dive.

Diving. Still diving. So many numbers. So many things.

An old playground. Nostalgic. Familiar. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy. Numbers and screens are friends. Logical, no emotion - they got my back. Don't turn on me. They understand because I understand _them_.

Hack. Hack. Cough. Cough. Hacking, and coughing, and my fingers are slippery. Wipe the red away.

Rub. Rub. Rub.

Damn, it's still here.

Tap. Tap. Tap again.

Almost done.

I'm running out of air. Lungs contracting. Head is fuzzy. Dizzy. Coughing. Hack. Hack. _Hacking_.

Aw, there we go.

I breach the surface, out of the computer. Technology is a friend.

Time to go. Time to leave. It's too much here. Bad colors stain the walls.

I settle into the pod. The controls are familiar, easy, type, tap, push, let's go, and we're out into the water. Pushed off. The facility is fading behind. A tombstone dropped into the water, infecting the ocean with its dead. Mourn the dead. Be sad for the lost.

I'm not lost anymore.

Glug. Glug. Glug.

Waves bounce, water churns.

I'm a _Tide_ Pod.

Heeheeheeheeheeheeheheehe - poison. Poison, poison. But, wait - don't swallow. Bad. Bad kids.

So stupid.

Every tide pod has its poison. The center. The icky, yuckies.

Up. Up. Up. Up.

Floating. I'm swimming, pedaling, stroking.

Almost there.

...

Almost...

...There.

Look at the sky.

Look at the moon.

My lungs can't breathe.

It's - it's so...so pretty. I press my face to the glass to get closer. It's so bright. A _real_ light. Natural. Beautiful.

The pod is still moving. Rolling in the waves. Rocking me back and forth, sweet, sweet lullaby.

No - wait...there's sand. We're on a beach.

The door opens, cold air, white fog seeps out of my mouth, frozen breathes. Numb. Poison from my own lungs.

The sand is hard and cold, but so pretty. Sparkling in the moon. Glistening waters.

I turn around.

Smile. SMiling. Welcome home. Welcome back.

Beautiful, glittering cities. Long buildings.

A tower. A tower with a giant A.

A for Asshole. A for annihilation. A for arrogant.

 _A for attack!_

A _ll aces._ I'm all in. Coming. For. You.

Let the game begin.

* * *

 **END of Part 1!**

 **Annnd Spider is officially out of Ravencroft! :D :D Join me on this adventure to see what mischief and mayhem he brings.**

 **Spoiler - it's no Bueno.**

 **Note! I have also updated "Reticent Monsters!" What? Two major story updates in one week? What's the catch?**

 **Actually, there is no catch. I felt bad for being unable to update last week so, voila! Two updates!**

 **Also, I had to update this early because I am going on a two-to-three day trip and I'm not sure if I'd be able to update while there. So, yay! Early updates :D**

 **HAPPY (Late) Halloween for those who celebrate it!**

 **-OfficialUSMWriter out!**


	5. The Night of the Attack

**Whoa! An update for this book! It's been forrreeevvvveeerr! But we're here! And we're ready to meet up with some old friends. The Avengers!**

 **Whoo! Enjoy!**

* * *

Tony's POV

"I can't believe this," Tony moaned, collapsing on the couch with his head in his hands. He rubbed at his temples, pinched his nose, rubbed a hand over his cheeks, and stared down at the floor, feeling as though he were swallowing glue. "This is the worst thing that could've happened, Pepper. I never thought-" He shook his head woefully. "I wasn't..."

"Tony," Pepper said gently, sitting on the armrest to the couch to rub his back soothingly. "This isn't your fault. I mean," she looked over the coffee table, eyes guarded and cold, "who would've thought Steve was _this_ good as Monopoly?"

They both looked over at Steve, who was calmly collecting the slips of pastel-colored cash and player pieces and putting them back in the box. He had a small smile on his face, humble, modest, and it goaded Tony like nothing else. When Steve caught them staring, his smile widened, for a fraction of a second, and he grabbed Tony's silver car piece, looked him in the eye, and placed it slowly in the box.

"Son of a bitch!" Tony erupted, jumping to his feet. "The least you can do is stop rubbing it in my face, Rogers!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve said innocently, putting the game board back in the box and getting to his feet.

On the floor, Clint was hugging his knee's to his chest, staring blankly into space where his face was smooshed into the Berber carpet. He'd been like that ever since he was ultimately destroyed in the game and all his property taken. "You know what he means," he whispered hoarsely, turning ever-so-slightly to glare at Steve. " _You know."_

"Aye, twas a fun game," Thor grinned, clapping his hands together once. "You are truly a man of industry, Steve."

"What would you know?" Clint grumped, thumping his head back into the carpet, "All you did was play with the thimble. You didn't even get a piece of property."

Thor shrugged, looking down at the thimble piece placed carefully at the top of his pinky finger, "Tis like a little hat," he smiled, bobbing his finger a little, "Besides, I don't understand the fundamentals of your mortal games. Still, watching the Captain obtain victory was a most enjoyable experience."

As if reminded of his failure, Tony gestured wildly to the cleaned up game with one hand and pulled at his hair with the other, "But how could he have won?" he demanded, "I've been playing this game for _years_. I'm literally a businessman. _How_?"

Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder, the game tucked under his arm as if he were toating a trophy, "Don't think too hard about it, Tony. It's just a game," He squeezed Tony's shoulder, tilted his head humbly, and brushed past him.

Shooting his voice an octave higher and adopting a nasal tone, Tony mimicked, " _Don't think too hard about it, Tony. It's just a game,"_ he grabbed his cup of scotch and took a furious sip, "Well, we'll see who wins next time, Spangles. I'm undefeated in Skip-bo!"

"Alright," Pepper said, patting him once. "It was fun to watch you lose to Steve, Tony. But I've got to get back to work. Someone's got to keep this company running."

Tony sipped his drink again, eyebrows knitting together, "Hey, I help with the company."

Pepper gave him a look.

"Well...sometimes," he conceded, "It's not my fault there's always some disaster happening in this city. I mean, you never realize how much _actually_ goes on until you patrol a few blocks. How can there be so many purse-snatchers? Who snatches purses anymore? Ever heard of ATM's?"

"I'm not saying you're not doing anything _helpful_ ," Pepper laughed, grabbing her coat off the armrest of the couch. "I'm just saying that if you want to _keep_ our company, I need to get back to work."

"Peps, it's like," he glanced at his watch, "10 o'clock at night?"

"And?" She said. "Don't tell me you weren't going to go out patrolling tonight either?"

At that, Tony fidgeted. Pursing his lips and kicking at the carpet, "Well...maybe..."

"I'll be back in an hour, and so will you."

"An hour," he whined, taking another sip.

"Yes," she repeated firmly. Pepper watched as he downed the rest of his scotch and her eyes softened, just a tad. "Tony," she started, but Tony waved her off quickly.

"It's okay. Not drunk. It was just a little late-night taste. I'm good to go."

"It's not that," she said, putting a hand on his chest, just over the arc-reactor. Granted, his drinking problem had come back violently in the past year, but that wasn't her biggest concern right now. Besides, he was doing better with his alcohol consumption in the last few months. She looked up at him imploringly, eyes hard, yet gentle. "You don't have to patrol, you know. Those criminal-activity detectors you gave to the police precincts are taking care of most of the crime out there. You don't _have_ to..." she sighed, dropping her hand. "I know you do it for him, but...maybe tonight you should take a break."

Tony shook his head, staring at his glass, down at his shoes, up at the ceiling, anywhere but in her eyes. "I can't," he said, tightly.

"Tony-"

"I _can't_. I'm sorry, Pepper. I am. But," he swallowed, running a hand over the side of his head, "You know I can't do that."

"You're running yourself dry, Tony. If he were here, he'd understand."

Tony shook his head again, going to take another gulp from his glass, only to realize it was empty. He set it down on the table and fiddled with the watch on his wrist, playing with the little holographic screen, looking up different street's to patrol tonight.

"Tony."

He hummed quickly, looking at her this time, jaw tight, but eyes drooped and sad. "If he were here," he said, voice pinched and shaky, "He'd already be out there. Patroling _those_ street's," he jabbed a finger at the window, where the lights of the city burned, looking at them so scathing it was hard not to wonder what they did to hurt him, "every night, despite how tired he was. I don't see why I can't."

"He got tired, too," Pepper said. "He had to sleep and eat just like the rest of us. I know you feel responsible for what happened, but you've been running on fumes like this for months. I've tried to give you your space but you're exhausting yourself."

"Someone's gotta do it," Tony said, swallowing thickly, "He's not here anymore, so someone's gotta take care of the..." he cleared his throat and looked away, rubbing at his nose "of the little guy now that he can't."

Pepper grabbed his shoulders, squeezing slightly, "And you _have_ been. The city's never been safer. The crime rate has dropped astoundingly in the last year. It's all because of _you_ , Tony. It's not your fault what happened to him."

"It is my fault."

"No, it's not-"

"Yes, it _is."_

"Tony."

"I should've known something was wrong," Tony grit out, stalking away from her to look out the window. "I was his _boss_. His...his mentor. It's my job to - to make sure he was okay, and I failed at that. Maybe..." he braced an arm on the window, leaning his head against it. His breath condensed the glass near his lips. "Maybe if I paid more attention. I should've hung out with him outside the lab more. Maybe then, I could've..."

"Don't think like that, Tony," Pepper said, appearing next to him, staring at the large expanse of the city. Not touching him, but standing. Keeping her distance. He appreciated that. Sometimes, he just needed a little room to breathe. "No one saw it coming. None of us, and we were his friends. We all cared about Peter and we all feel responsible for what happened to him."

"He was only 21. Almost 22. I don't-" he thumped his head against his arms. "I miss the guy, Peps. I've known him since he was 17. Still a teenager. I thought I could help him, you know, as small, and tech-less as he was. And I just...I miss the little bugger."

Down on the floor, Clint gave a big, heaving sigh. "Yeah...me too. He was annoying as hell sometimes, but which one of us isn't?"

Tony and Pepper jumped, whipping around at him. Tony glare and Pepper scowled, both holding their arms akimbo on their weight. "Barton," Tony barked, "How long have you been there?"

"Never left," Clint said, still hugging his legs. "It's kinda comfy down here, I'll be honest. Kinda surprised."

"Well get out! Can't you see we're trying to have a chat?"

"Fine, alright," he snapped, unwinding his arms. "It's not my fault you two can't tell when there's a guy on the floor. Jeez." He brushed off his pants and threw his shoulders back. "I'm going. But I'm doing it cuz I want to and only for that reason."

Tony waved him off as he strode proudly out the door, "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

They waited until he was out of the room before turning back to each other. Pepper opened her mouth to continue the conversation but was cut off as Tony's watch let out an abrupt, wailing alarm that made them both jump back. Tony stared down at it for half a second, open-mouthed, before lurching from his spot and sprinting for the door.

"Tony," Pepper followed after him, "What it is? What's going on?"

"It's Ravencroft," Tony said over his shoulder, running through the kitchen where Steve looked up from the sandwich he was making. "I set up alarms that contacted would contact me the moment there was any trouble. I've gotta go make sure everything's okay. JARVIS?"

 _Yes, sir?_

"Roll the video feed at Ravencroft in my lab and keep tabs on it," he grabbed one of the bracelets from the bar, shoving it over his hand. "If there is _anything,_ and I mean _anything,_ gunning for Peter, I want you to hack into that rotting ocean gunk they call a prison and man all defenses."

 _Right away, Sir._

Tony jumped out onto the balcony, up the sleek steps as gears and robotic arms sprang from the floor under his feet, dressing him in bits of armor that crept over his body and clicked together. "I'll be back as soon as I can," Tony said to Pepper, "I'll keep you on standby on the comms."

Peppers eyes were hardened again and she nodded. "Be careful, Tony. Don't let anything happen to him."

Tony's eyes were hard, "I won't." The boosters in his hands and feet burst to life and he propelled into the air and flew off into the sky, leaving Avenger's tower quickly behind him. Once out of the city, he located Ravencroft easily in the water and dove inside, pinpointing the building out of the murk. Its outside lights were flashing red, but there were no alarms. Not that they needed them in the ocean, surrounded by nothing but water for miles.

"JARVIS, get me clearance and open the door," Tony said, veering to the side and spotting the main hatch that served as a giant door. A quick minute passed and the hatch opened. Before it could even crack open all the way, Tony shot inside, and it closed behind him just as quickly. The water had to drain out of the room before he could leave it, but as soon as the door opened, he hurried out into the corridor.

The Iron Man armor was best suited indoors nor in tight spaces, so he'd have to be careful not to accidentally punch a hole in the building and drown everyone inside.

If...there were people left to drown, that is.

Tony's run dropped into a stunned walk as he whirled around to see both long stretches of the hallway, where bodies littered the ground in random heaps. The effects were gruesome. Blood stained the floor, walls, and ceiling, the majority pooling around broken, disfigured bodies of guards and doctors alike, all obscured in violent, disturbing angles that could only be wrought through broken bones.

He looked up at the ceiling, where bloody hand and footprints painted the metal walls. Heart hammering, Tony picked a direction and hurried down the hallway. He's been here a number of times already, mostly to fix up the buildings defenses, and to install fiber-glass into Peter's cell. He knew the direction to Peter's part of the building, having memorized by heart the first time he was taken there.

The more he ran though, the more death he saw. Bodies everywhere. Lottering the ground like discarded pieces of trash seeping with blood. "JARVIS, what happened?"

 _Ravencroft was attacked, Sir. The point of the attack came from the inside, near the West Wing._

"Where's Peter?"

 _Gone, Sir._

Tony faltered for half a second, but judging by the treks on the ceiling and the sheer amount of power that went into destruction like this, he already figured the attack had something to do with the guy. He just didn't want to admit it. "What do you mean by gone?" He asked still.

 _Peter Parker existed the premise of the building 5 minutes ago._

"What?!" He sprinted back for the main hatch, though it felt perilously slower when he wasn't flying. "But I _just_ got the alert. What happened?"

 _Still not sure, Sir. All video footage is being retrieved from the building's mainframe and rerouted to the lab, as we speak._

"We've got to find him! NOW!"

 _Of course, Sir. However, if I may point out, there are approximately 87 people left in the building who need medical attentional, 34 uninjured, and 104 inmates and patients who need proper detainment and care._

"SHIELD will take care of it," Tony growled, "We've got to find him."

 _Good point, Sir. Although, my estimates are that SHIELD back-up will take another 10 - 15 minutes before arrival, and many of the fatally wounded will have bled out by then._

Tony clenched his jaw, cursing the high heavens and everything below. With a roar he punched the nearest wall, denting it heavily. "Dammit JARVIS," he snapped but whirled back around even though it felt like his bones were grinding together. "Fine, take me to the ones who need the most help. We've got to hurry."

 _Very good, Sir._

Tony found the first one. A young doctor with a pipe embedded into her stomach. She was still alive but quickly going into shock. Tony did his best to stabilize her and staunch and blood-flow, doing his best to ignore the fact that one of Ravencrofts most mentally unstable patients was out there somewhere, heading to heaven knows where.

And that the patient happened to be his old personal intern and friend, Peter Parker.

 **That's a tough pickle to be in. Poor Tony.**

 **Thanks for reading. I have a few more updates planned for the next few days! We'll see you all then! :D**

 **-OfficialUSMWriter**


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